


Words Unspoken

by Roselightfairy



Category: The Lord of the Rings - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Attempt at Humor, Established Relationship, Fluff, Light Angst, M/M, Missing Moments, POV Outsider, Secret Relationship, bookverse, slight AU
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-14
Updated: 2019-04-14
Packaged: 2020-01-13 07:29:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,355
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18464311
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Roselightfairy/pseuds/Roselightfairy
Summary: Based on a prompt by TAFKAB formerly in the2000GigolasFicscollection.  Legolas and Gimli have secretly been in a relationship since a chance meeting in Mirkwood several years before, but don’t dare to let their families or companions know about it, for fear of being forced apart.  After all this time, they’ve become very good actors – but maybe not good enough to last through a journey with seven companions who are quickly catching on – or their deepening fondness for one another.





	Words Unspoken

**Author's Note:**

  * For [pt_tucker](https://archiveofourown.org/users/pt_tucker/gifts).



> This is my first piece for the Fandom Trumps Hate auction this year, for my high bidder PT_Tucker, who wanted outsider POV and some humor. Neither of those, it seems, are my strong point, and a little angst crept in despite my attempts, but I tried – and I hope it’s not a bad story, regardless!

_"Then about a year ago a messenger came to Dáin, but not from Moria - from Mordor: a horseman in the night, who called Dáin to his gate. The Lord Sauron the Great, so he said, wished for our friendship. Rings he would give for it, such as he gave of old. And he asked urgently concerning hobbits, of what kind they were, and where they dwelt. "For Sauron knows," said he, "that one of these was known to you on a time."_

_'At this we were greatly troubled, and we gave no answer. And then his fell voice was lowered, and he would have sweetened it if he could. "As a small token only of your friendship Sauron asks this," he said: "that you should find this thief," such was his word, "and get from him, willing or no, a little ring, the least of rings, that once he stole. It is but a trifle that Sauron fancies, and an earnest of your good will. Find it, and three rings that the Dwarf sires possessed of old shall be returned to you, and the realm of Moria shall be yours for ever. Find only news of the thief, whether he still lives and where, and you shall have great reward and lasting friendship from the Lord. Refuse, and things will not seem so well. Do you refuse?"_

_'At that his breath came like the hiss of snakes, and all who stood by shuddered, but Dáin said: "I say neither yea nor nay. I must consider this message and what it means under its fair cloak."_

_' "Consider well, but not too long," said he._

_"The time of my thought is my own to spend," answered Dáin._

_' "For the present," said he, and rode into the darkness._

_\--_ _Glóin, Fellowship of the Ring, ch. 1_

***

_`Alas! alas!' cried Legolas, and in his fair elvish face there was great distress. `The tidings that I was sent to bring must now be told. They are not good, but only here have I learned how evil they may seem to this company. Sméagol, who is now called Gollum, has escaped.'_

_'Escaped?' cried Aragorn. 'That is ill news indeed. We shall all rue it bitterly, I fear. How came the folk of Thranduil to fail in their trust?'_

_`Not through lack of watchfulness,' said Legolas; `but perhaps through over-kindliness. And we fear that the prisoner had aid from others, and that more is known of our doings than we could wish. We guarded this creature day and night, at Gandalf's bidding, much though we wearied of the task. But Gandalf bade us hope still for his cure, and we had not the heart to keep him ever in dungeons under the earth, where he would fall back into his old black thoughts.'_

_'You were less tender to me,' said Glóin with a flash of his eyes as old memories were stirred of his imprisonment in the deep places of the Elven-king's halls._

_'Now come!' said Gandalf. `Pray do not interrupt, my good Glóin. That was a regrettable misunderstanding, long set right. If all the grievances that stand between Elves and Dwarves are to be brought up here, we may as well abandon this Council.'_

* * *

 

Legolas had made it perhaps two steps out of Elrond’s council chamber when he was seized by the tunic and bodily dragged into an adjoining room.

He panicked for only an instant, before he recognized the feel of the grip and the powerful hand that held him, and then he even managed a smile as the door was slammed shut behind him and his back shoved up against it.

“Well,” he said, “this is a pleasant – mmmph!”  He was silenced with a kiss – dragged down with the one hand while another cupped the back of his neck with warm, callused fingers; slightly chapped lips pressed against his; the surprising softness of thick, lush beard that brushed his cheeks and neck.  Legolas sighed and surrendered to it, bending down and sliding his arms around the broad shoulders of his unmistakably dwarvish companion.  Gimli.

“Mmm,” he hummed when they broke apart, the distress that had driven him for days momentarily gone.  “And glad I am to see you as well, my dear, unexpected as it – _what_ are you doing?”  Gimli said nothing, his hands roaming up and down Legolas’s body as though feeling for cracks.  “No attempt at wooing first?  What do you take me for, Master Dwarf?”

“Are you all right?” Gimli said at last, his tone serious enough to penetrate Legolas’s mirth.  He looked up, dark eyes burning with intensity.  “We heard word of the attack you spoke of, but the messenger gave no names, and I could not ask after your safety, not without revealing” –

“Ah.”  Legolas’s shoulders sagged, all the weight of before sinking back onto them.  “Nay, I am unscathed – but I do not deserve to be.  Many good warriors were lost, and we will suffer for their absence.”  Too many – and Mirkwood’s numbers were too few even without those losses.  Losses for which Legolas was responsible.  He closed his eyes in shame.  “But I thank you for asking.  And how do you fare?  An envoy from Mordor is nothing to brush off, not even for those as doughty as I know your people to be.”

“That it was not,” said Gimli heavily.  “Not least because of the talk that followed it – shameful, it is, to know how many of my people were tempted to bow to the Enemy.  They were a small minority, but one is too many.”

Legolas leaned down and held him, pressing his cheek against Gimli’s hair and reveling in the easy way they breathed together.  For all that he dared not speak of it, he had always felt a simplicity and rightness to Gimli’s embrace that none would believe elf and dwarf could find together.  “Do not judge them too harshly,” he said.  “There is much to fear – and indeed, we are all given to shameful thoughts, in these trying times.”

“What do you mean?”  Gimli withdrew from the embrace and caught him by the shoulders, and for the first time, Legolas felt able to speak aloud the words he knew no one else would dare say to his face.

“It was my idea to let Gollum out in the woods,” he confessed.  “Pitiful, he was, and I could not bear to shut him away so, not when I thought the light and air might do him good – but we paid dearly for it in lives.  I should have been among them, but instead I carry the blood of my fellows on my hands.”

“No,” said Gimli fiercely.  “The blood of your fellows is on the hands of the Enemy, not on yours.”  He took Legolas’s hands into his own.  “And do not let me hear you wish for your own death again – that would serve no one.  It was not your fault you were attacked, and selfish I may be, but I am glad you did not pay with your life.”

Legolas looked away, unwilling to accept the absolution that Gimli offered, but the dwarf’s hand came behind his head again and pulled him down for another kiss.

Legolas sighed when they parted, and Gimli chuckled.  “Of course your free spirit could not bear to see anyone in captivity,” he said.  “I have known that of you since you first came upon me lost in your forest.  Who else would have helped me back to my patrol instead of bringing me back to his dungeons?  It is why I” – He broke off abruptly, mouth snapping shut.

Legolas shivered at the implied words – yet unsaid between them, but not for lack of wanting.  But he knew they both resisted for the same reason – their parents, their families – and the world, which seemed to grow darker and darker around them.  How could they find time for – in the middle of war?

Gimli gave an uncomfortable laugh, surely thinking along the same lines as Legolas and striving to return to the previous subject.  “Though my father would surely disagree.”

“Your father,” said Legolas, shaken back to sense.  “And – my companions.  We ought to go, before they miss us.”

“Yes,” Gimli said, but did not move.  “How long will you stay here?”

Legolas shrugged.  “We had planned to be here only a day or two – Mirkwood can spare few warriors these days – but I wonder now if perhaps we will stay a bit longer.  I would fain know what will become of Frodo and the Ring, and perhaps Lord Elrond has more wisdom to dispense to us.”

“We, too, I think,” said Gimli.  “Well.  Meet me here again tomorrow?”

Rarely had they been given the boon of two days in one another’s presence, however remote – their meetings in the past had always been had under the cover of darkness, when Gimli could manage to slip away for an hour or two from his patrol at the outskirts of the forest, and when Legolas could devise a reason to be patrolling out that far himself.  “Of course,” said Legolas, without hesitation.

Gimli was peering through the peephole in the door, but Legolas nudged him aside to press his ear to the crack.  “No one,” he said.  “You go, and I will follow a few moments after.”  Gimli nodded and reached for the handle, but Legolas stayed him before he could turn it.  “And Gimli, I – also,” he said, and was treated to the rare sight of a dwarf blushing before Gimli eased the door open and disappeared down the hall.

Legolas listened to the sound of his receding footsteps until they were gone, and then sighed and slumped against the wall, marveling at how strangely heavy he felt now that Gimli was gone.  It should not make sense that he should feel this way over a dwarf – more than that, over someone he had seen so scarcely.  He and Gimli had met by chance in Mirkwood a few years before – and then they had met again, and again, until finally both had confessed that it was no longer chance.  And though they had contrived to meet as often as possible, it was never as often as either of them would like.  For all that Legolas had spent more – far, far more – of his long life without Gimli than with him, it seemed every time they were together he became less able to imagine the rest of his life without him.

And, that they had both happened to arrive here and now, out of all the elves and all the dwarves that might have come – did that not mean something?

He shook himself out of his meandering thoughts and straightened up.  Enough time had passed, and he ought to go find the other elves who had come here with him.  They would wonder what had become of him.

He was just leaving the room when he spied someone approaching from another direction, and he stiffened in surprise and unwilling awe – and some embarrassment.  How was he to react when the lord Elrond himself had just caught him emerging from a room that likely had some better purpose than trysting? 

But Elrond did not seem angry – indeed, he hardly seemed to notice.  “Ah, Legolas,” he said.  “As it happens, you are just the person I was hoping to see.”

“I – I am?” he practically stammered in response.

“Yes.”  Elrond swept into the room Legolas had just left, and beckoned him in to follow.  “Would you speak with me for a moment?  I wondered how you would feel about taking part in a certain quest . . ."

* * *

 

“He wants you to do what?”

“Gandalf and Elrond have spoken, it seems,” said Gimli, pulling up a chair to sit beside his father.  “They are giving thought to those who will defend Frodo as he carries the Ring to Mordor, and have asked if I will accompany him.”

“And you said?”

“Yes, of course,” said Gimli – but the look on his father’s face revealed his lack of surprise.  He had likely only asked the question in irony, but Gimli would answer it regardless.  “They wished for a representative of the dwarves, and as we have rather few of them here at the moment, I was the best choice.  I would hardly turn down the chance at such a deed!”  Frodo had a brave heart indeed, but he would benefit from several strong arms to defend it, and Gimli’s was stronger than most.

And there was the little matter of his companions…

“Who else is to go?” said Glóin suspiciously.  “He would not have placed a single dwarf among an army of elves, would he?”

“No.”  It was a job to conceal his pleasure beneath a veneer of distaste – but Gimli had had much occasion to develop his acting skills.  “There will be few enough of us that only one elf and one dwarf have been chosen.  But if it must be only one, Lord Elrond seems to have intentionally chosen the most distasteful possible companion.”  He raised an eyebrow at his father.  “Would you care to have a guess?”

“Well, you know my answer to that question,” Glóin said wryly, “but as the most distasteful has not chosen to grace us with his presence, I shall have to guess that his son will be your companion?”

Gimli heaved a great sigh and let his head fall back against the chair.  He knew that his face was the picture of unsurprised exasperation – he had spent long enough practicing, after all – but inside his heart was beating thrice as fast as it ought.  A chance to do something tangible – really strike a blow at the heart of the Dark Lord whose shadow had hung so low over the world for all of Gimli’s life?  A journey with the nephew of Bilbo Baggins, who had done such a service for Gimli’s people?

And – a journey with Legolas as his companion?

How would he have been expected to say anything but yes?

* * *

 

“Did he speak to you?”

Those were the first words Legolas said, after he had maneuvered Gimli into a convenient nook, and kissed him very thoroughly in greeting.

Gimli nodded, still catching his breath.  “He did.”

“And you said?”

Gimli gave Legolas the most offended look he could muster.  “What do you think I said?”

“Good.”  Legolas kissed Gimli again.  “As did I.”  He pulled back and frowned.  “You did say yes, did you not?”

Gimli gave him a friendly swat on the arm.  It was a traitorous thought to his family and his people, maybe, but he could not stop thinking how endearing Legolas looked when he was discomfited.  “Of course I did.  Ought I to be offended that you thought otherwise, even for a moment?”

“I did not think otherwise, I only” – Legolas looked flustered for a moment before he noticed the smile on Gimli’s face, and then returned the swat.  “You impudent dwarf, you knew I did not doubt you!”

“No, but I like to watch you squirm.”  Gimli raised an eyebrow, to lend the extra layer of innuendo to his words, and grinned in delight at Legolas’s ensuing blush.  “Nor did I doubt you, though I would have gone even if you had not been asked.  It is an alluring thought, to act against the Enemy” –

“To strike first,” Legolas agreed, intercepting his thought, “before being placed immediately on the defensive.” 

His eyes were bright with anticipation, and Gimli understood.  He had spent enough time in Mirkwood to know how near the struggle with Sauron was there, how much it weighed on Legolas’s heart at all times.  “And we will be well-served by one with your lightning-quick reflexes,” he said.

‘No more so than by one with your mighty arm,” Legolas retorted, giving Gimli’s bicep an appreciative squeeze.

They smiled at one another for a moment, and finally Gimli spoke their shared thought aloud.  “And more than that, we will have time.”

“Time,” Legolas echoed.  “It is more than I ever dared to dream, after so long with a ready lie on my lips, but” – His face clouded over.  “What of our companions?  Do you think they will betray us?”

“Can they?” Gimli said.  “It seems to me that few of our companions will be in a position to speak to either of our families.”

Legolas’s eyes unfocused as he thought.  “Well, the halflings” –

“Hobbits,” Gimli corrected.  “Though such a phrase is no more than I would have expected from a people who regularly names dwarves _stunted_.”

Legolas pinched his arm, but his eyes were distant and he managed no more than a half-smile.  “The hobbits will know nothing of us.  Frodo may know something of our families, but he did not travel with them the way Bilbo did, and will have no reason to carry tales.”

“No,” said Gimli.  “What of this Aragorn?  What do you know of him?”

“Little, but enough for concern,” said Legolas.  “He is a friend of the elves, and would have reason to understand the grudges.  More, he has met my father, as he brought Gollum to us, and he has traveled much of Middle-earth.  All here have faith in him to lead the fight against the Enemy, and so surely we can trust him with the world – but their trust in him makes me less inclined to reveal our secret to him.”

“He brought Gollum to you?”  This news had somehow escaped Gimli – though in fairness, he had been more focused on Legolas’s very presence at Elrond’s unexpected council than on the news he bore.

“Yes,” Legolas said, “he came with Gandalf after they had caught – ah.”  His face fell, and Gimli knew why.  “Gandalf,” he said again, and this time Gimli chorused it with him, the name leaving both of them on a sigh of dismay.

“I know not if we dare take the risk,” Gimli said at last.  “Gandalf will bear us no ill will – indeed, likely he will be delighted to hear.”

Legolas nodded, and Gimli knew he had been understood.  “Too delighted.  He may insist that we make our affections public, or tell our families about us in the hopes that it will mend the rift.”

“Do you think it will mend the rift?” Gimli asked.

Legolas only looked at him.

Gimli’s shoulders slumped.  He had not expected anything different, after all, but it was a disappointment nonetheless.  “You are right,” he said.  “Well, secret it is, then.  What a boon our long practice will be to us now!”

“Secret it must be, maybe,” said Legolas, “but we must not lose sight of the time we have been given.  And that is worth something, at least.”

“More than something,” Gimli said softly, catching hold of Legolas’s upper arms and drawing him in close.  “Everything.”

Legolas smiled agreement, and let Gimli pull him down to kiss him again.

* * *

 

_`The Company of the Ring shall be Nine; and the Nine Walkers shall be set against the Nine Riders that are evil. With you and your faithful servant, Gandalf will go; for this shall be his great task, and maybe the end of his labours._

_`For the rest, they shall represent the other Free Peoples of the World: Elves, Dwarves, and Men. Legolas shall be for the Elves; and Gimli son of Glóin for the Dwarves. They are willing to go at least to the passes of the Mountains, and maybe beyond. For men you shall have Aragorn son of Arathorn, for the Ring of Isildur concerns him closely.'_

_Elrond, Fellowship of the Ring, Chapter 13_

* * *

 

It was only on the third day of their travel that the first fight broke out.

It was earlier than Aragorn had been expecting it – in his experience traveling with new groups of people, the forced politeness usually lasted at least a week before everyone was too tired of one another to make allowance for strange quirks any longer.  With this group, especially with the importance of their mission, he had expected even longer before any petty squabbles.

But then, it was between the elf and the dwarf – and that was not surprising at all.

They were the two on the trip that Aragorn had doubted the most.  Not the hobbits – the dangers would be much for them, it was true, and it pained him to see such innocence stand before such great peril – but they were a people of great resourcefulness and surprising resilience, and he had no doubt of their valor.  Moreover, they were on the whole a pleasant folk, and made fine traveling companions so long as one was more amused than irritated by complaints of the size of the rations.  Gandalf, of course, Aragorn knew – and Boromir, who was the companion most inclined to be hostile to Aragorn himself – well, Aragorn knew his father, and had had time to prepare himself for this journey.

But the elf and the dwarf – a son of _Thranduil_ , more, and a dwarf of Erebor!  Aragorn would grant that dwarves had been in short supply at the council, so Gimli’s selection made sense, but he had spoken to Elrond and Gandalf in private over the choice of Legolas.  He was unknown to most others in the company, and the one who knew most of him was the one most inclined to dislike him.

“He is a valiant fighter, and an elf of Mirkwood will be well acquainted with Sauron’s traps,” Elrond had said.

“But to have him alongside a dwarf of Erebor” – Aragorn had protested.

“Give Legolas a chance,” Gandalf had said.  “I think he will surprise you.”

Now, listening to the raised voices over by the fire Legolas had been building, Aragorn shot a look at Gandalf and felt vindicated.

“—I had it well in hand before _you_ came along,” Legolas was saying now, loudly and viciously, glaring at Gimli over a fire that looked like nothing more than a smoldering pile of logs.  Aragorn sighed internally.  One of the few times they had dared to risk a fire on their journey, and of course it had turned into this.

Gimli snorted.  “You looked like a staring doe.  Am I to be responsible for your refusal to accept my generosity?”

“Your generosity?” Legolas gaped for a moment.  “You snatched the flint out of my _hand!_ ”

“Before you could do any more damage with it!”

Legolas had fallen back into a crouch at the derision in Gimli’s tone – and Aragorn had enough experience with the elves of Mirkwood to know the sign of an oncoming attack when he saw it.

The hobbits were murmuring among themselves; Boromir was standing as though paralyzed, and Gandalf seemed more amused than anything else – so he supposed it was up to him.

“ _Gentlemen_ ,” he said loudly and firmly, striding towards the not-fire.  “Is there a problem?”

Legolas and Gimli glared at one another for a moment longer, then said “ _No,_ ” at the same time, in such eerily-similar tones that Aragorn almost started.

“Good,” he said, to cover his surprise.  “Now, if neither of you is capable of making the fire” – They both moved as though to protest, but he raised his voice and spoke over them – “Boromir, would you mind swapping chores?  Legolas, since we have decided to risk the fire today, we may as well have something to cook on it.  You may go see if there is any game to be had in these sparse woods.  And Gimli, we will need dry wood to prevent smoke – you may collect that.  And I assume both of you know better than to continue your altercation under cover of the trees?”

The “woods” were hardly enough to be called such – a few scraggly trees here and there – but they would provide enough cover if the errant members of their Fellowship did decide to seek better ground for an argument.  Aragorn thought they had been sufficiently shamed as to avoid doing so, but it was better to be safe than sorry.

Legolas and Gimli glared at one another for a moment longer, then both turned the same stare of sullen resentment on him.  Again, he was taken aback by the disconcerting similarity of their movements.  Perhaps they were so inclined to butt heads because they were already so much alike?

But, stubborn as both were, neither chose to fight him – and that was a relief.  There would be no test of his leadership tonight, not even from Boromir, who nodded and accepted his new duties without a fight.

Gimli turned and stalked off into the trees.  Legolas made to follow him, but Gimli turned and glared so fiercely at him that he stopped in his tracks, swiveled, and disappeared in another direction.

Aragorn sighed, watching them go.  That was one crisis averted, at least – but he could not imagine it wouldn’t grow worse.

* * *

 

“Do you think we ought to trim it back a bit?”

Gimli jumped at the suddenness of the voice beside him – for all he had been expecting it, he had yet to become used to it.  “Stop _doing_ that!” he gasped, whirling to face where Legolas hung upside down from a branch – just as he had done when they first met.  “One of these days, someone will lop your beautiful head from your shoulders before you can identify yourself, and you will deserve it!”

Legolas laughed quietly and flipped down from the branch to stand beside Gimli.  “Perhaps that was a bit much, earlier,” he said.  “I do not think Aragorn trusts either of us as is; I would not have him believing our ‘enmity’ will endanger the quest.”

“Hmm.”  Gimli wondered how long they had before the others might venture to seek them in the woods, to see where they were with the supplies they were to seek – or to ensure that they had not done one another injury.  Despite the risk, he could not resist sliding an arm around Legolas’s waist – being so close to him without speaking or touching was more painful than he had imagined it would be.  “Perhaps you are right.  But at least after such a display, I think none will doubt our dislike for one another.”

“That is true.”  Legolas laughed softly.  “Did you see the look on poor Boromir’s face?  He hardly knew where to turn!”

“He did not expect two of his companions to break out into squabbling with such little provocation.”

“No.”  Legolas sighed.  “Ah, Gimli, we do our races few favors with this display.  Can you imagine what the poor hobbits will think of both elves and dwarves now?”

Gimli snorted.  “If they base their thoughts about all our races on only one of each, they deserve any misconceptions.”  But then, perhaps they were not misconceptions at all – for it was likely that had any other dwarf and any other elf been in this strange assembly of companions, they might have acted just the same.

Legolas hummed and leaned into Gimli’s embrace, but his chin tilted up and his head swiveled slightly from side to side.  Gimli knew the look; had seen it often in the depths of Mirkwood – Legolas was on alert, all his senses straining to be aware of anything that might come to find them.

It was not a good idea to kiss him then, but he did it anyway.  It had become harder and harder to keep his hands to himself, and so long as they had even sparse cover, he meant to take advantage of it.

Legolas allowed it for a moment or two, but then at last pulled back.  “We must separate again,” he said.  “They will be looking for us if we do not return soon – and Aragorn is right that we need food and wood.”

“Yes,” said Gimli, pulling reluctantly away.  “But I think we have done good work – and silent glares should suffice for the time to come.”

“I trust your judgment,” said Legolas.  “Very well – silent glares it is.”  And with one last squeeze of Gimli’s hand, he was up a tree and vanishing back in the direction Aragorn had sent him.

Gimli tried to watch him as he left, but Legolas’s ability to disappear in even a small grove was unmatched.  With nothing to gaze at, Gimli sighed and went off to gather wood.

* * *

 

“I give them two weeks,” declared Pippin, folding his arms over his chest and nodding decisively.

Sam flushed.  “Mr. Pippin!” he hissed.  “It isn’t right to speculate so on others’ private lives” –

“Four at least,” said Merry, shaking his head.

“How do you figure?”  Frodo could not help joining in the conversation, for all that he knew Sam was right.  The others in their company had a right to privacy – especially as little as they had from one another already – but Pippin’s speculations made him smile, and amusement was precious these days.

Sam cast him a betrayed look, but Merry was already speaking.  “The way I see it,” he said, keeping his voice down and glancing at where Legolas sat, some distance away, repairing the fletching on one of his arrows, “elves reckon time differently than we do.  Even if to us the tension seems fit to burst, I simply can’t picture an elf making such a decision so quickly, can you?”

“Yes,” said Pippin, a bit too loudly.  Gandalf looked over, and Pippin gulped and dropped his voice to a whisper once more, leaning in closer.  “Gimli will not let him wait so long.  Do you see the way he watches Legolas, every time they argue and even long after?  Stares at him as though he is imagining him” –

“Pippin!” Frodo did cut in this time, glancing over himself at where Legolas sat.  Surely if the elf had heard them, he would have made some sign by now – but then, Sam was right that some things, at least, ought to have boundaries.  “We understand what you mean.”

“Some of us wish we didn’t,” said Sam gloomily.  He seemed drawn into the conversation despite himself, and Frodo patted his hand in amused reassurance.

“Well,” he said.  “If nothing else, they provide us plenty of entertainment.”

They spoke, of course, of the elf and the dwarf in their company, who seemed to have made it their mission to make life as difficult for one another as possible.  After the first few days – and the first few reprimands – they had simmered down from outright quarrelling to hostile glances and the occasional extra-hard jostle, but it was evident to all their companions that they were only barely holding themselves in check.

In more than one way, Pippin and Merry had taken to speculating.

“I will bet you,” Pippin was saying now, his chin thrust out defiantly.

“Pippin!” said Merry.  “No!  I won’t gamble with you!”

His was the look of the long-suffering older cousin, who had had to put up with such antics for too many years.  But Pippin’s glare in response was that of one who had always, always gotten his own way – eventually.

Frodo knew who would win, and he grinned to watch it.

“If we are still on this journey in two weeks, and if by that time their obvious yearning has overcome their reservations,” Pippin said, “you have to do my share of the chores for the rest of the journey.”

“Absolutely not,” said Merry.

But already Pippin had won; Merry had now weakened himself for future bargains.  “For the next two weeks,” Pippin cajoled.

“No!”

“One week?”

Frodo was laughing now despite himself; a smile had begun to creep over Sam’s face despite his disapproving expression.  Merry sighed and threw up his hands.  “You win,” he said.  “One week.  And if more than three weeks pass and we grow nearer to my guess than yours, you owe me the same.”

“And if we are no longer traveling at that time?”  Frodo meant the words to sound light – and he did not think Merry or Pippin noticed the way they struck him inside: thoughts of what all could go wrong in their mission tormented him every night, and he wore their messenger around his neck.

But they did not seem to catch the grim undertones.  “Then we will determine something of equal value,” Pippin declared.  “Are we agreed?”

Merry rolled his eyes and took his offered hand.  “We are agreed.”

* * *

 

“Well,” Gimli said, after he had finished laughing, “they are not wrong.”

Legolas chuckled, and looked down at where his fingers had somehow become entwined with the dwarf’s.  “No, I suppose not.”

“I mean,” Gimli persisted, as though he wished to continue an argument whose point had not already been conceded, “you _would_ have taken years to come to terms with your feelings.  And I _did_ have to persuade you otherwise.”

“And persuasive indeed you were,” Legolas murmured.  A smile crept over his face at the memory, and Gimli shifted beside him.  But it was late morning, all the others long since gone to sleep, and they were on watch – Legolas had taken to sitting with Gimli when he took a shift on watch.  Let the others, if they woke, think it was because Legolas did not trust him; but really, these were few of the precious moments they could snatch for themselves, surrounded as they were by so many others.

The conversation drifted into silence and they sat there companionably for some time.  Finally, Legolas bestirred himself to speak again.

“Perhaps it will aid us,” he said slowly, thoughtfully.  “Their speculations.”

“It will certainly give us a reason to end our pretense, if we must,” said Gimli, casting a sly look to the side that made Legolas’s cheeks heat.  “It seems we act it poorly enough.”

Legolas laughed again.  “Yes, perhaps.  But I think also – well, it seems we will have people to speak for us, should this all end as well as we might hope.”

“And, if it does” – Gimli said nothing of the other possibility; they knew it well, and now was no place to speak of it – “who will speak against us?  How can anyone stand against heroes who found love on their quest?”

He placed no more emphasis on the word _love_ than any of the others, but it sucked the air out of Legolas’s chest anyway.  That word had long been unspoken between them, as though as long as they said it not they could retain a halfhearted pretense that this thing between them was – was temporary.  Was just a game, for all that they both knew it was not.

But for elves and dwarves both, the word _love_ meant something more.  Something permanent.

Legolas said nothing for a time, trying not to let his own heartbeat drown out all other sound.  But after a moment he became aware that Gimli was watching him – or, studiously not watching him, keeping his head straight ahead but his eyes cut slightly to the side.

“No one would dare, surely,” said Legolas at last, squeezing Gimli’s fingers.  “Perhaps you are right – after this, no one can speak against us.”  It was his turn to hesitate.  “Then . . . do you think we ought to tell them?”

A slow smirk was spreading across Gimli’s face.  “No, not yet,” he said.  “It is simply too amusing to end it so soon.”

* * *

 

_`Well, here we are at last! ' said Gandalf. 'Here the Elven-way from Hollin ended. Holly was the token of the people of that land, and they planted it here to mark the end of their domain; for the West-door was made chiefly for their use in their traffic with the Lords of Moria. Those were happier days, when there was still close friendship at times between folk of different race, even between Dwarves and Elves.'_

_'It was not the fault of the Dwarves that the friendship waned,' said Gimli._

_'I have not heard that it was the fault of the Elves,' said Legolas._

_'I have heard both,' said Gandalf; 'and I will not give judgement now. But I beg you two, Legolas and Gimli, at least to be friends, and to help me. I need you both. The doors are shut and hidden, and the sooner we find them the better. Night is at hand! '_

_Fellowship of the Ring, ch. 14_

* * *

 

Gandalf started awake, though he managed not to jolt and rouse any others from a much-needed sleep.  He did not rest easily here in Moria – it was not a path he had gladly taken, for all it was the only way – and was, indeed, surprised he had fallen asleep to begin with.

But what had woken him?  It was not a noise so much as a feeling in the air, and not of danger, either – or, no more dangerous than the constant prickling unease at the back of his neck.  Had someone else stirred within the company?

Gandalf cast his eyes about, moving his head as little as possible.  The others slept, in the arrangements that had become so familiar to them: the hobbits at the center, for better protection; the others arranged around them.  Gimli sat up on watch – no.  There were two figures sitting there instead of one – and Legolas’s bedroll was empty.

Gandalf frowned, wondering if he should rise.  Gimli had distress enough in this place, with the dwindling hope of meeting his kin here, and increasing fear of knowing – or not learning – their fate.  If Legolas had risen merely to torment him in his pain –

But no.  Not a word was to be heard from the two of them; not a jibe nor a whispered insult.  They merely sat close together, not speaking – and their hands were touching.

A good many things came clear to Gandalf then: strange interchanges that had not added up, the strange current that had seemed to run under their every squabble; it was as though a film had torn itself from before Gandalf’s eyes and allowed him to see the truth.

Silently, he settled himself back into his supine position, and he smiled as he drifted back to sleep.

* * *

 

_`As was agreed, I shall here blindfold the eyes of Gimli the Dwarf. The other may walk free for a while, until we come nearer to our dwellings, down in Egladil, in the Angle between the waters.'_

_This was not at all to the liking of Gimli. `The agreement was made without my consent,' he said. `I will not walk blindfold, like a beggar or a prisoner. And I am no spy. My folk have never had dealings with any of the servants of the Enemy. Neither have we done harm to the Elves. I am no more likely to betray you than Legolas, or any other of my companions.'_

_'I do not doubt you,' said Haldir. 'Yet this is our law. I am not the master of the law, and cannot set it aside. I have done much in letting you set foot over Celebrant.'_

_Gimli was obstinate. He planted his feet firmly apart, and laid his hand upon the haft of his axe. 'I will go forward free,' he said, 'or I will go back and seek my own land, where I am known to be true of word, though I perish alone in the wilderness.'_

_Fellowship of the Ring, ch. 16_

* * *

 

“I am sorry.”

Aragorn looked up from his meal at the sound of the words – they were the first he had heard between Legolas and Gimli since the blindfolding incident.  It was notable not only for the apology, but also because the mood between them had not been at all typical of them.  Rather than the usual heated stares and unnecessarily-hard nudges, their silence since the blindfolding had been freezing cold, had put even Aragorn on edge.

Now Gimli did not even look up from the sweet roll he was meticulously shredding.  “I am sure.”

Legolas made a sound like a grunt of frustrated anguish.  “I had no choice, do you not see?” he cried.  “They would not have allowed us in any other way, and” –

Gimli’s head snapped up, the look on his face so fierce that Aragorn found himself leaning away.  “No choice,” he growled.  “No, of course you did not.”

“Would you have had me” – Legolas’s hands clenched into fists; he bit off the end of the sentence.

But Gimli seemed to know what he would have said; he crossed his arms over his chest.  “Perhaps I would.”

They said not a word of what they were discussing, and yet they both seemed to understand one another perfectly.  And this strange bitter half-conversation – along with the icy silence of before – in contrast to the angry words from the beginning of their trip – it brought to mind certain words Aragorn had heard from their hobbit companions, certain speculations he had dismissed as mere amusement, and he began to wonder.

And even as this surprising thought crossed his mind, Legolas stomped – actually stomped – over to where Gimli was still sitting, reached down to seize one of his wrists, and yanked him bodily to his feet.  “Come,” he said tightly.  “Walk with me.”

Aragorn had seen enough of the strength of Gimli’s arm to know that he would not have been moved had he not gone willingly.  But he did – even sullen and grumbling, he let Legolas tug him away into the forest.

And Aragorn turned his attention to the flurry of whispering that had broken out among his bewildered companions, and wondered if perhaps they were right after all.

* * *

Legolas let go of Gimli’s arm as soon as he knew the dwarf was walking beside him – angrily, perhaps, but with no intent to leave.  He could not blame Gimli – no, he only faulted himself.  Legolas had never been skilled in diplomacy, but to have his meager skills so fail him at such a crucial time – it was an unforgivable offense, and he was lucky that no more harm had come to their company than to their pride.

“I _am_ sorry,” he ventured again, softly, after a time.

Gimli grunted.  “So you say.”

“Do you not believe me?”  Legolas tried hard to push down on the surge of hurt in his chest.  It was not fair of him to feel thus, not when Gimli had received more grace from the lady of this place than he had from his own companion, his own –

Gimli still looked stubbornly away from him.  “Two days ago I would not have believed you would force me into humiliated blindness – a position I know for a _fact_ you esteem too low for yourself!”  He spat on the ground.

Legolas dropped his head.  “I know,” he said softly.  “Ever have I been a failure at diplomacy, but never more so than yesterday.  I have shamed you and myself, and I am sorry for it.”

“If you are sorry, then why did you do it?”  Gimli stopped walking and turned to look at him at last – and Legolas felt he could see every emotion in his eyes: betrayal, anger, and – hope.  Hope, perhaps, that Legolas would have some good reason for him?  Or hope that Legolas would instead give him a reason to end their foolishness for good?  “Why did you make me wait for the Lady to welcome me before doing it yourself?”  Ah, yes, the Lady – and Legolas remembered well the awe he had seen in Gimli’s eyes as he spoke to her, the words of praise that had flown so freely from him.  He had hoped it was merely Gimli’s way of avenging himself, but perhaps – and now his heart sank – perhaps it meant something deeper.  “Our game before our companions is one thing, but we are to protect one another from outside foes!”

“Our game,” Legolas echoed.  Was that all this was to Gimli, then?  Perhaps he truly did only enjoy the secrecy of it.  “Our _game_ is the reason I faltered – well, one of many.  I told you, I have no skill in gentle speech; no head for games with words.  Haldir offered me a condition for our sojourn here; I could not sway him, so I took it.  And then, when you protested – I knew not if I should speak for you; or if so, how vehemently; truth and lies became so muddled up within me that all I could do was argue with _you_.”

“Our game.”  For all that the words had been his to begin with, Gimli made them now sound as though Legolas had spoken them first.  “Then is that all this is?  If we cannot stand up for one another, if we cannot truly trust one another, is this in truth aught more than a game?”

Legolas closed his eyes in shame, but opened them again an instant later.  “Do you wish it were so?” he fired back.  “I saw the way you gazed upon the Lady; would any elf do, then?  Is it truly me you” –

“I looked upon her thus because she urged me to tell the truth!”

Gimli’s voice was a shout at those words, loud enough that a few nearby birds flew startled into the air, twittering.  It was a reminder to both of them that their voices had grown louder, and they both glanced around to be sure they were alone before Gimli quieted.  “You looked into her eyes as well, Legolas.  Did she not lay you bare as easily as she did me?”

“She did.”  He had not meant to speak of it, had not even meant to think of it, in the face of the apology he must make, but the Lady had seen the truth of his heart before he could even think to shield it from her.  Had seen it, and smiled upon it, and – “She seemed to tell me that I ought not let fear hold me silent – that love is worth it, no matter” – He fell silent.  He had said it, the taboo word, just as Gimli had those many weeks ago.

Gimli did not respond immediately, and Legolas looked away, off into the forest.  It was beautiful, no doubt, but for once such forest loveliness did not even touch him; his heart was too occupied with other troubles.  Surely he had been wrong beyond forgiveness; surely whatever he felt, Gimli would not be able to –

“And is it?”  The low voice shook him abruptly free from his misery; he stiffened in surprise, but a large, callused hand had come under his chin, turning his head back around.  The anger was gone from Gimli’s eyes now when he met Legolas’s gaze, leaving behind only a strange sort of fearful longing hope.  “Is it worth it, Legolas?”

The rush of breath that left Legolas felt less like a sigh and more like a sob; his hands rose unbidden to clutch at Gimli’s shoulders.  “I hope so,” he confessed.  “I wish it so.  Gimli, I” –

“Hush.”  Gimli pulled him down, and Legolas knelt, unwilling to be so distant from Gimli’s body as his height usually made him.  Kneeling, he was just the right size to press his face into Gimli’s beard, and he did so now, as tears began to fall in earnest – and he felt Gimli’s breath hitching against him, and he knew that neither of them wept for themselves.

“I do not want to hide it any longer,” Legolas managed.  “It is not worth it to keep secrets from our friends, and – and” –

“And he would have been glad to know of it,” Gimli finished.

“Yes.”  There was no need to clarify who “he” was; indeed, perhaps this was whence all the tension had come to begin with.  Without Mithrandir, all felt lopsided and wrong; Legolas could not conceive of a world in which he did not exist, and they – and he – “He asked us to be friends, and now he will never know that we are.”

“Are we?” said Gimli, his voice hoarse from his own weeping.  He pulled back, and looked at Legolas with wet, red-rimmed eyes.

Legolas swallowed, and reached out to swipe a cautious finger over a tear on Gimli’s cheek.  “If you still wish it,” he whispered.  “If you will still have me.”

Gimli did not answer in words.  He kissed him instead, and Legolas felt as though he could dissolve in Gimli’s strong embrace.  He clutched back just as tightly, hoping to give as much comfort as he was given.

“We do not have to hide any longer,” said Gimli, when they pulled apart at last.  “If it is truly both of our wish.”  He gave Legolas a long, searching look.

Legolas nodded – and at last, he brought himself to say the words: the ones they had both avoided for so long.  “I love you, Gimli.”  They were more difficult to speak than he had imagined, but once he had begun, they were the easiest thing in the world to say.

Gimli closed his eyes and exhaled long and hard, and Legolas felt as though months of stored breath had been let out between the two of them.  When he opened his eyes, they were glinting anew with fresh tears.  “I know,” he said softly.  “I love you, too.”

* * *

 

When they returned to camp some time later, they walked hand in hand at last, and pretended to ignore the flurry of murmuring and the respectively sullen and triumphant glances that passed between Pippin and Merry.

But the next morning, when Pippin began to clear away Merry’s dishes while Merry looked on smugly, Legolas could resist it no longer.

“I should hate to spoil your fun,” he said, “but it would not be fair if I did not tell you there is no need for that.”

Pippin looked up in surprise.  “What do you” –

“He means,” Gimli said, stepping up to Legolas, “that both of you were wrong.”

“What do you –? How did you –?”  But even as the hobbit sputtered, and Merry came to stand next to him and joined in the furious volley of questions, Gimli settled more comfortably in at Legolas’s side and took his hand once more into his own.

It felt as though it belonged there.

**Author's Note:**

> This work now has a lovely prequel: [Paradisaeidae](https://archiveofourown.org/works/18559537), written by [nsmorig](https://archiveofourown.org/users/nsmorig/pseuds/nsmorig), who wanted to imagine their first meeting.
> 
> And if you're looking for even more stuff to read, my imagining of the relationship between Erebor and Mirkwood, and the events leading up to the Council of Elrond, is heavily inspired by [Horatio's Philosophy by Thundera Tiger](https://www.fanfiction.net/s/8529570/1/Horatio-s-Philosophy), which is an excellent fic that I highly recommend.

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [Paradisaeidae](https://archiveofourown.org/works/18559537) by [nsmorig](https://archiveofourown.org/users/nsmorig/pseuds/nsmorig)




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